


Playdates

by zlot



Category: Actor RPF, Kill Your Darlings RPF
Genre: First Meetings, Gratuitous References to the Movie 'Armageddon', M/M, Shia LeBeouf - Freeform, awkward boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zlot/pseuds/zlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a waify-looking artiste, Dane is a pretty forceful kisser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playdates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogged/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my precious bogged! This is clearly exactly how it happened, right?
> 
> Thank you, as ever, for your friendship, which means more to me than I have words for.

**Playdate #1**

 

“Dane was living down in Allentown,” sings Dan, badly. “Doopy doop doop factories down.”

Dane stares blankly at him in that dead-eyed way Dan has already catalogued as his biggest selling point to casting directors. Great for films where they want you to play a sociopath, but it’s a bit disconcerting to have it pointed at you in real life. 

“That’s a song, isn’t it,” Dan says, flatly. “I mean, I think there’s literally no way I could have made that up just now.”

Dane nods, unreadably, and then says: “Billy Joel.”

“And you’re from Allentown, ergo I am hilarious. This is going really well, I think,” Dan says. Dane doesn’t react.

It’s the first day of what Dan has been referring to, in the run-up, as his “playdates” with Dane DeHaan in preparation for shooting their new movie. Dane is, from what Dan can tell, a genre actor just like him, but apparently he has this vaguely Method-y idea that his relationships with his co-stars onscreen need to be rooted in some sort of reality.

“Essentially he wants to make friends with me, but only for his _ART_ ,” Dan had told Emma on the phone, drawing out the ‘art’ for about three seconds.

“Being friends with you is bad for art,” Emma had replied.

Dane’s road trip with Shia LeBeouf is already legendary in young-Hollywood circles. His devotion to his craft can never again be questioned.

Dan wants to ask about it _really badly_. He’s sure Dane saw things on that trip that mortal men should know not of. But he’s already striking out fairly badly today.

Dane smiles, in a pained way, and fiddles with his tie. (He wore a tie to hang out in Dan’s apartment.) “People from Allentown have to listen to the first two lines of ‘Allentown’ fairly often. Also, did you know that the factories Billy’s singing about weren’t even _in_ Allentown? They were in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Bethlehem doesn’t rhyme with ‘down’ as well, I guess.”

“It does not,” says Dan, out of his depth. On the other hand, Dan basically lives out of his depth, which makes this practically his depth.

There’s a long, awkward, dragging pause before Dan decides to charge back into that breach that Tom Hiddleston is always going on about (probably referencing something).

“What do people tell you your voice sounds like?” Dan asks.

“What?” Dane seems genuinely puzzled.

“Your voice. It’s sort of… odd. Distinctive, anyway. I just wondered what the consensus is among those who know you best,” Dan says. “I’m thinking that you sound like a tired lion.”

That does get a laugh. “Okay, yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Though people aren’t usually so descriptive. My girlfriend, before we started going out, she called it my Pompous Jag voice before she realized it was my normal, y’know…”

“Oh no,” Dan says.

“It’s a thing,” Dane agrees.

“What does Shia compare it to?” Dan asks, casually.

“Shia? I — I don’t know,” Dane says, absently. “Who knows what Shia really thinks about anything, right?”

“Haha, yeah, right,” Dan chuckles, really out of his depth now. “Shia. What a mystery. Like he is.”

 _TELL ME WEIRD STUFF ABOUT HIM_ , Dan wills with his brain, but Dane switches the subject to Beat poetry or something – that’s what their new movie is about, or whatever – and proves definitively that Dan’s brain is not at all magic. Fucking brain.

 

 

**Playdate #2**

 

The second playdate, which takes place at the park one Sunday, goes more smoothly. Or Dane seems more like a human, anyway. He’s brought sandwiches, and a toy. It’s a Harry Potter action figure, to be precise. 

“Found this when I was at my dad’s,” Dane says. “He collects this sort of thing.”

“If you take me out of the box, I think I lose resale value.”

“That’s deep. 

It isn’t.

 Dan squints at the tiny face of the toy him. He looks pretty dumb.

“I’m jealous,” Dane continues. “I didn’t get an action figure for _Chronicle_. Probably because I just wore hoodies and killed people.”

“I would buy that action figure,” Dan replies. “It could go on road trips in a Barbie car with Shia LeBeouf.”

Dane laughs, maybe a little uncomfortably. “Yep, Shia and I are totally close friends now,” he mumbles. “It happened.”

“I saw in an interview where you said he was really talented."

“Yes, I did,” Dane says, woodenly. He picks some grass, drops it.

He comes back to life a bit later when he makes the Harry action figure hop around on the sandwiches and say, “Cor blimey! What is this, _magic_ tuna fish? Where’s Gandalf?!” 

“Gandalf?” Dan asks. “No one’s _that_ big a hipster, Dane. You saw my kid’s movie. Everyone did. I bet you have a favorite character. I also bet it’s someone ridiculous, like Neville, or—” 

“Dobby,” Dane says. “I like Dobby.” 

“These hangouts aren’t working, I hate you more now,” Dan groans all in one breath.

“You cried so good when he died,” Dane says, lying back on the grass. “You’re really talented.”

“Am I Shia-really-talented, or just regular type?” Dan picks up the action figure again when Dane doesn’t answer and makes it walk around on Dane’s stomach, the bones of his hips. “Hey. Hey Dane. What blockbuster film that everyone in the world knows is this from? You have to pretend I’m an animal cracker, though.”

Dane is covering his eyes with one arm, but smiling. “Oh my _God_ please let there be photographers in those bushes,” he says prayerfully. “I’m telling you, the headline ‘Potter actor _Armageddon’_ s the belly of Dane DeHaan’ would do nothing but good for my career. Bring it.”

“Crikey,” Dan says in his best _I-love-magic_ voice. “What strange land is this, professor? It looks like the weak abdominal muscles of a douchebag! Why is it wearing a tie to a picnic in the park?”

 

 

 

**Playdate #3**

 

The next playdate is dinner, which in retrospect should have been a clue. Filming is coming up really soon now, soon enough that Dan’s hair is now a riot of curls that he has no clue how to handle.

“Hey, mop top,” Dane says in greeting, as he sits down at their table. “How’s the rest of One Direction?”

“I don’t know what that thing is, but I’m feeling insulted somehow, so I’m just going to go with it."

“Did you buy a pick yet?”

 “Again, my answer is: what?” Dan says, practically into the opening of his non-alcoholic beer. This teetotaler thing is going to last approximately two more days if he keeps hanging out with Dane. Who, incidentally, looks the same as ever. “Aren’t they going to style you for this movie at all? I have to wear contacts, even.”

“Nah,” Dane says, scanning the menu. “I already look like I could kill someone at any moment. They’ll just drape a scarf on me and say ‘action.’”

“Who needs styling when you’re Method actor Dane DeHaan?” Dan agrees.

“I just _am_ Lucien, I guess." 

“That’s why we call you Dane-iel Day-Lewis.” That gets a bigger laugh than it merits, and Dane chokes on the sip of water he just took.

 “Oh mannn, it’s like — it’s like you just made a casual joke about the one thing in the world I want to happen,” Dane says, coughing a little. “It’s impressive, is all.”

“Admit it — I get you better than Shia.”

“Well, Shia’s great.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Dan says.

They eat, and it’s good — the food and the talk. Dan feels social enough that he asks Dane over afterwards to teach him how to play a video game. Because, like. It’s hard.

What he’s not expecting is for Dane, suddenly and apparently with malice a-fucking-forethought, to push him up against the foyer wall in his building and kiss him.

It’s not a hard push, but Dan is a little guy and he’s pretty taken aback. He opens his mouth to remonstrate, but as he’s just _opened his mouth into a kiss_ , it tends to make him seem extra enthusiastic, as does the “mmmmph” noise that represents said remonstration.

For a waify-looking artiste, Dane is a pretty forceful kisser. The long fingers of one hand are splayed along Dan’s jawline, while the other rests on Dan’s hip. His lips are dry, almost chapped, but warm and — friendly? And oops, there’s his tongue. Yeah, he seems competent with it. Dan’s entire body, quicker than his brain, is basically on board with what he’s doing in there.

Dan really does want to say something, so this time before opening his mouth he gently pushes Dane back. Dane looks flushed, and his always-heavy eyelids look even heavier than usual. It’s appealing, but. Dan clears his throat.

“So that happened,” he says. “Let’s talk about that.”

He tries to lead Dane toward the elevator, because frankly it’s amazing that they’re still alone and haven’t had a telephoto lens shoved into their faces yet. But Dane seems to not want to move. 

“Wait, wait,” Dane says, looking worried. “Did I misread the signals?”

“If I have ever had signals in my life for anyone to read _or_ misread, this is the first I’m hearing about it,” Dan replies.

“It’s just— it’s fine, and I’m sorry if you weren’t up for that. I just thought — third date, you know, and I thought it was going well—”

“Third _date_?” Dan repeats. “Like, _date_ dates?" 

“Well, yeah,” Dane says, beginning to smile a bit. “I called you and asked you to hang out, and yeah it was awkward at first, but then I thought you warmed up to me. At any rate you seemed really adorably jealous of Shia, which is pretty ridiculous, since that was just business.” 

“FIRST OF ALL let me stop you there because I am not jealous of Shia LeBeouf,” Dan yelps in horror. “Not now, not ever. Secondly, strictly business — yes! Isn’t that what this is? I thought we were just doing, you know, playdates so you could pretend to be friends with me on film, Method-style.” An idea occurred to Dan. “Wait a second, wait. Is this why you kissed me? Are you—” Dan leans in, “ _Lucien-Carring_ me right now?”

An ugly look is on Dane’s face. “Okay, wow,” he says, backing away from Dan. “I had, just, really not a _clue_ how repellent and gross you think I am. Is that really what you fucking think?”

A sinking, but not unfamiliar, feeling was settling over Dan. It was how he generally felt when his (admittedly faulty) mechanism for figuring out what the hell other people are doing threw up a huge, dumb mistake. 

“Well,” Dan says, carefully. “I was clearly mistaken—”

“Me too!” Dane interrupts, bitterly, and strides out of the building, his long jacket fluttering dramatically in his wake, of course.

Dan sighs, and hits the elevator button resignedly. “What a LeBeouf I am,” he mutters.

 

 

*

 

Dan writes and discards about nine drafts of emails to Dane, cycling through various excuses (“I was actually practicing for a film role _I_ have coming up where I play a giant asshole!”) and ironized self-deprecations (“#doucheradcliffe”) before going to bed without sending anything.

The embarrassment of the fight, and his depressing sense of having been in the wrong, are enough to keep his brain circuits occupied for most of the weekend. It takes a while, therefore, for him to cycle back to the actual kissing part, and to deal with how he felt about that.

The results actually surprise him. He opens up a blank TextEdit file on his laptop and types:

 

 _Dear diary that I don’t actually keep:_

_I liked kissing Dane DeHaan._

_I just felt like someone should know._

_Signed, Daniel Radcliffe, age 22._

 

A few days later, he decides Dane should know too, and starts trying to write an email again.

 

*

 

**Date #4**

 

Dane is dragging Dan around an art museum today, sometimes actually grabbing his hand and pulling him towards favorite paintings, which is about the safest way for them to hold hands in public, so: awesome.

And Dan won’t say so, for obvious reasons, but this sort of thing is going to help him play Ginsberg, unequivocally.

Collateral benefit. He’d like to think this would be happening anyway.

 Dan listens and nods and offers an occasional comment, and waits for an opportunity to pull Dane into an alcove or nook somewhere in this place, preferably by the tie, in order to surprise him into gasping via the judicious application of lips to neck. When the opportunity finally comes, it is more than satisfactory. Dane is _grabby_ , Dan thinks hazily. Who knew?

They stumble out, Dane saying something about dinner. And then, Dan snaps to attention, because:

“And get ready, because I’m going to tell you about my Shia trip,” Dane is saying. “I had to make sure you were legit, but now I’m going to tell you _everything_. And there are things your little wizard brain won’t even be able to handle.”

 Life is, as noted earlier, _so_ awesome.


End file.
